THE SPECTACLE OF SUNRISE IN PARIS

                                             

               

     

     

     

                  

                  

                   

      

                                              

         

                  

        

                     

THE SPECTACLE  OF SUNRISE  IN PARIS

Sunrise in Paris is less an astronomical event than a quiet referendum on the city’s covenant with time. While night is a studied performance of eternity ; the Eiffel Tower rehearsing its sparkle, the Seine River duplicating monuments for lovers and insomniacs , dawn arrives as an unrehearsed truth, indifferent to myth. The hour itself shifts with the seasons, disobedient to human desire: summer drags it towards 6 a.m., winter withholds it until 8:45 a.m., as if the city must earn its light through patience. And so sunrise exposes the paradox of Paris. By night, the city declares that beauty must be illuminated to exist. By dawn, natural light arrives without permission, stripping the boulevards of their theatrical gold and returning them to stone, glass, and the ordinary labor of waking.

It begins with fresh air ; cold, unowned, moving through the city before anyone can market it. The sky softens from indigo to pearl, and with it the first birds reclaim Notre-Dame’s towers, their calls stitching the silence left by late cafés. The promenades along the Seine River come to life not as postcards but as arteries: joggers trace the quays with disciplined breath, their footsteps a metronome counting the city back into motion. Flower vendors at Quai de la Mégisserie arrange colour against the pale light. Tourists emerge bleary and determined, maps already creasing, chasing the hour before crowds re-colonise the Louvre museum 's courtyard. 

And then the city inhales. From boulangeries; on every arrondissement corner comes the tempting smell of bakeries at work , butter surrendering in hot ovens, yeast exhaling through crust, baguettes splitting their seams with a sound like a vow. It is the oldest argument against nihilism, drifting down Rue Mouffetard and across Pont Neuf: that if the universe is indifferent, it still permits this. The scent precedes reason, precedes language. Jean Paul Sartre may choose his essence, but no one chooses to ignore a warm' pain au chocolat'. 

Meanwhile restaurants and cafés unshutter with a clatter of iron and wood, chairs scraping sidewalks like a morning benediction. Espresso machines hiss themselves awake at Le Deux Magots and nameless corner zinc bars alike. Croissants, proofed through the night, are slid from trays to baskets , and waiters in white aprons adjust tables with geometric care, setting out sugar cubes and spoons as if laying offerings for a daylight deity. They prepare not just for customers, but for the idea of communion: the possibility that a stranger will sit, order, linger, and be transformed by coffee, bread, and conversation.

Below them, the Metro exhales its first trains, steel wheels inscribing Heidegger’s “everyday” into the tunnels, carrying the bakers, nurses, and sweepers who confess through labour that existence precedes essence. The first light on the glass pyramid does not wait for applause; the gilded dome of'Les Invalides' does not care that it was designed for spectacle. Here technology ; the lamps, the monuments, the curated glow recedes, and physis, nature’s self-emergence, reclaims its primacy.

Sunrise therefore humbles Paris. It reminds the city that it is not the author of its own radiance but a borrower, given a few hours each day to justify the lamps it kept burning all night. Night in Paris is the dream of what we wish to be; sunrise is the verdict of what we are. Yet because dawn is unasked for, it becomes the more profound gift. The same Seine River that turned cathedrals into liquid impressionism at midnight now reflects a cold, exact sky, and in that honesty there is a different kind of beauty: not chosen, not staged, but granted. Thus sunrise time in Paris is philosophy embodied the moment when the city ceases to perform immortality and consents, briefly, to mortality, only to find that morning light, fresh air, birds, joggers, the tempting smell of boulangeries , and the first coffee poured for an empty chair forgive it anyway.

If night is when Paris seduces the world with the myth of its own permanence, then sunrise is when Paris remembers it is mortal , and chooses to begin again anyway. The lamps go out, but the city does not. Instead it breathes, bakes, pours, and runs, proving that meaning is not kept in monuments but made daily by bodies in motion: the jogger’s discipline, the baker’s heat, the waiter’s first open chair. Sunrise grants no spotlight and asks no worship; it only offers light, air, and the chance to participate. In that unasked gift, Paris reveals its truest philosophy: that beauty is not what we illuminate, but what remains when the illumination ends. And so each dawn the city consents to time, to work, to hunger and hope, trusting that a baguette still warm, a seat still empty, and a sky still pearl-grey are enough to start the argument for existence all over again.

Some cities you visit. Paris visits you, and never leaves. It welcomes everyone , even strangers with a smile. I end this write up with a mini poem of Parveen Shakir :

(I will Miss you )

Jaane se pehle

Oss ne mere aanchal se

Ek phiqra baandh diya

“ I will Miss You “

Saara safar

Khushboo mein basa raha

....... ( Parveen Shakir )

(Before he left,

He knotted a sentence into the hem of my scarf;

" I will miss you."

Since then,

The whole journey 

Has lingered, fragrant.) 

(Avtar Mota)

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

PARIS AT NIGHT

                                           

                                               

PARIS AT  NIGHT 

Paris at night shows its true self instead of hiding. The Seine flows past the city and reflects Notre-Dame, the Louvre, and the Eiffel Tower, turning stone and glass into shimmering copies on the water so Paris feels like a dream you can walk through. The Tower stops being just metal and becomes something magical when it sparkles every hour, and people use that moment for proposals, photos, and quiet wishes. The city’s 37 bridges connect everything, and the old Pont Neuf still carries crowds while the Pont des Arts once held thousands of love locks. Thinkers like Sartre and de Beauvoir used to cross these bridges, and today lovers, artists, and insomniacs do the same without anyone judging. Museums close but the Mona Lisa still watches in the dark, and the Opéra Garnier glows like a stage for every story Paris has told. You can hear Chopin’s piano music drifting from apartment windows, soft and slow, like the city humming to itself. The Moulin Rouge still turns its red windmill as dancers perform where art and nightlife have mixed for over a hundred years.  The terraces at Cafe de Flore and Deux Magots are full of tourists from everywhere and locals who come to talk, drink, and watch each other, keeping the old Paris habit of seeing and being seen alive. Painters like Van Gogh loved how night wasn’t just black but deep blue and orange, and writers like Hemingway said Paris travelled with you because the nights stayed in your memory. Picasso met people here after dark and started new kinds of art, while fashion from Chanel and Saint Laurent changed how people dress to go out, with shop windows on Rue Saint-Honoré shining like displays. All of this makes Paris at night feel full of energy: people crossing bridges, buying tickets, ordering wine, arguing, loving, and living. The light on the river, on the buildings, and on faces tells you what the city is about. You come to see the monuments, but you stay because Paris feels alive and personal. Every night it begins again, offering the same streets and lights to anyone who wants to be part of it, reminding us that a city is not its stones but the choices, desires, and moments of the people who move through it, and in that sense Paris at night becomes a mirror: it shows us not only what the city is, but who we are when nothing else is watching.

Paris is illuminated at night because a city without light is a city without witnesses, and Paris refuses to be forgotten; its glow transforms stone into memory, iron into longing, and passing faces into fleeting art, so that beauty, freedom, and history remain visible even when the sun withdraws its sanction.

( Avtar Mota)

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

PARIS IN RAIN

                                                       

RAIN IN PARIS 

 Rain in Paris is not weather but ontology. The city, so devoted to appearance :  its facades, its fashion, its careful cafés arranged like stage sets,  suddenly loses its certainty under water. Balconies weep onto awnings, and the Seine River  ceases to reflect monuments and instead dissolves them, turning Notre-Dame into a trembling smear of gray, and the Tower’s lattice into a half-erased theorem by the second level, as if geometry itself were provisional. Along the promenades, the plane trees stand unmoved, their bark mottled like old frescoes, shedding wet leaves that stick to the walk like signatures the rain refuses to dry. Higher up, the rain washes Montmartre hill clean, stone steps slick and shining, Sacré-Cœur bleached pale as bone against a sky that has forgotten how to be blue. The Pont Neuf  forgets whether it is bridge or mirage. Tourists gather under the Champ de Mars with plastic ponchos the colour of lost tickets, consulting maps that bleed ink, learning that the  city will not pose for them today. They queue instead at the Louvre and the Orsay, trading the drowned horizon for guarded canvases, where rain is painted but never felt, where Mona Lisa smiles through glass while the real world smudges.

 Cobblestones on paths become mirrors, and every passerby inherits two selves: the upright figure hurrying under an umbrella, and the liquid double that follows at their feet, distorted, fugitive. Bookstalls along the quai draw their green shutters like eyelids against the wet. This is why Parisians love the rain and resent it also: it exposes the city’s great secret, that permanence is a conceit. Haussmann’s boulevards, meant to impose rational order, grow porous; the city reverts to flux. Yet in that dissolution there is a strange honesty. The rain strips Paris of its postcard, and what remains is not less beautiful but more human : the smell of wet chestnut trees in the Luxembourg, the hiss of tires on Boulevard Saint-Germain, a baker sliding baguettes into paper as steam meets drizzle, a couple kissing in a doorway because the world has briefly agreed to blur. Café de Flore holds its glow against the gray, arguments about Sartre rising with the cigarette smoke, proving that ideas, like coffee, need steam to rise.Immanuel  Kant would call it the sublime: beauty tinged with a mild terror of the formless. But Albert Camus would recognise something else: the Absurd. Here is a city that insists on meaning , on history, on art, on liberté, and here is the rain, indifferent, undoing it all without malice. The Parisian, caught between an awning and a downpour, does not despair. He lights a cigarette, adjusts his scarf, and keeps walking under a sky that has stolen the skyline, past the plane trees that have seen empires rust and still root themselves in the wet, past the tourists who came for permanence and found only reflection, past the museums where pigment waits for dry eyes to return. That gesture, futile and dignified, is Camus’s revolt in miniature: to live as if the blur were a canvas, even knowing the water will take it. In rain, Paris stops performing and simply exists, and in doing so, reminds us that to exist is always, a little, to be undone , and to go on anyway.

When Paris loses its monuments to rain and mist, it gets them back as reflections. Beauty and meaning aren’t erased ,  they’re translated. From stone to water, from skyline to street, from eternal to ephemeral. The  trees keep their slow patience on the promenades, and Montmartre, washed and glistening, keeps its vigil above the blur, until the clouds lift and the Eiffel Tower returns, line by line, from mist to iron again, standing as if it had never doubted itself, while the tourists, damp and laughing, fold their maps and decide the detour was the destination, and the museums exhale their crowds back into a city that has remembered how to shine.

( Avtar Mota)

..
CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

THE BAGUETTE AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

   

                                              

                                                                               

THE BAGUETTE AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTION  

A  boulangerie is a French bakery that, by law, must make its bread from scratch on-site. A boulanger bakes mostly bread, with the baguette as the bestseller, alongside ; pain de campagne, boule, croissants, and pain au chocolat. He bakes so many baguettes because the French eat them fresh every day with nearly every meal; they go stale quickly, and at about €1 each they are an affordable daily habit. Moreover, as per the baguette de tradition, it must be sold the same day it is made. So, bakers produce fresh batches in the morning and late afternoon to meet the constant demand from people stopping by before lunch and after work.

The 'baguette de tradition française'   is not merely bread. It is a 65-cm manifesto. By French decree, it contains only four ingredients: wheat flour, water, yeast, and salt. No additives, no shortcuts. That legal purity is itself a post-Revolution inheritance. The French Revolution declared bread a right, not a privilege. Before 1789, the price, weight, and colour of bread were rigidly tied to class: white for the nobility, known as ,pain de luxe,  and dark maslin for peasants. When the people stormed the Bastille on 14 July 1789, they were also storming the boulangeries where flour hoarding had doubled bread prices. “Let them eat cake” may be apocryphal, but the rage behind it was caloric.

The legend says Napoleon ordered a slim bread that soldiers could carry in their trouser leg. The long, thin baguette we know today became common much later, around the 1830s, but laws governing its preparation, size, and ingredients were formulated in 1920. Previously, most people ate large round loaves called  miche or pain de ménage.

In France, bread was everything. At the time of the French Revolution, the average worker in Paris spent 50–80% of his wages on bread alone. When the price rose, families went hungry. People could not afford it, and it became a minor cause of the Revolution. There were reasons for this essential commodity becoming expensive. Repeated bad harvests , rain and hail  had ruined wheat crops resulting in less flour and higher demand. Some millers and bakers hoarded grain to sell later at higher prices. And when even bread became beyond reach of common masses , anger boiled over in the streets of Paris. On 5 October 1789, thousands of women marched to Versailles chanting “Bread!” and brought King Louis XVI back to Paris. Historians call this the “March of the Women” or the “October Days.” It showed that hunger could move crowds faster than any political speech.

The baguette is so popular in France because it is woven into daily life: bakeries make it fresh twice a day, the law protects its simple four-ingredient recipe, and at about €1 it is affordable for everyone. Its crackling crust and airy crumb pair with everything from cheese to soup; it is easy to tear and share, and buying one warm under your arm is a ritual that feels like home. Named UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2022, the baguette is not just bread; it is a symbol of French pride, trust in craftsmanship, and the small, shared moments that hold society together.

(Avtar Mota)

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

WOUNDS OF THE SOUL ARE NEVER ERASED: THEY REMAIN BURIED

                                        

WOUNDS OF THE SOUL ARE NEVER ERASED: THEY REMAIN BURIED.

(Photo  Avtar Mota )

You can patch up. Forgive. Hug. Move on. But the wound doesn’t leave.  It goes underground. Buried, not erased. Everything looks normal on the surface.  Yet in a quiet moment, a word, a memory: it aches again. 

People whom you trust may also teach your soul where it can bleed. And some scars, you carry; not because you’re weak,  but because you once let someone that deep.

( Avtar Mota )

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

BOOK REVIEW : THE WAVES OF RESILIENCE ( THE STORY OF RADIO SHARDA )

                                                 

                     

 

Review of the book “The Waves of Resilience: The Story of Radio Sharda”  ….Edited by Ramesh Hangloo

The Waves of Resilience: (The Story of Radio Sharda), edited by Ramesh Hangloo and published by Pir Panchal (CESES) Organisation, is a deeply evocative and intellectually grounded contribution to the discourse on cultural survival, memory, and identity in exile. Priced at Rs 499/-, the volume (190 pages ) brings together 29 essays that collectively document the history, creation, and far-reaching contribution of Radio Sharda, a pioneering initiative dedicated to the preservation of the Kashmiri language and culture in the aftermath of the forced displacement of the Kashmiri Pandit community from Kashmir. This volume must be read not merely as an institutional chronicle but as a layered cultural text that captures the anxieties, aspirations, and resilience of a community negotiating its identity under conditions of prolonged exile. It stands at the intersection of historiography, cultural studies, and memory discourse, offering insights that are both academically significant and emotionally compelling.

Editorial Vision and Structure

As editor, Ramesh Hangloo demonstrates a clear and purposeful vision. The decision to compile 29 essays from a wide spectrum of contributors ensures that the narrative is neither singular nor reductive. Instead, it unfolds as a polyphonic account, enriched by the diversity of voices and experiences represented within its pages. The contributors include distinguished figures from the Kashmiri Pandit community, such as Dr K L Chowdhary, Vijay Bakaya, Prof. B.L. Zutshi, Pran Kishore Kaul, Arvind Gigoo, Prof. A.N. Sadhu, Prof. R.L. Shant, Ashok Ogra, and Dr R L Bhat, among many others. Their collective engagement lends the work both intellectual depth and cultural authenticity.

The essays are thoughtfully curated to trace the evolution of Radio Sharda, from its conceptual genesis to its emergence as a vital cultural institution. At the same time, they situate this journey within the broader historical context of displacement, thereby linking the story of the radio station to the larger narrative of the Kashmiri Pandit experience.

Radio Sharda: A Living Archive of Culture

At the centre of the book lies the remarkable story of Radio Sharda. Established as a community radio initiative, it has grown into a powerful medium for cultural preservation and dissemination. The essays collectively underscore its role as a living archive, one that not only records but actively produces culture.

Radio Sharda’s programming, which spans music, literature, oral traditions, religious discourse, and contemporary issues, serves as a vital conduit for the transmission of cultural knowledge. In exile, where traditional modes of cultural transmission are disrupted, such a platform becomes indispensable. It recreates, in an auditory form, the shared spaces that once existed within the homeland. The emphasis on the Kashmiri language is particularly noteworthy. Language, as the contributors repeatedly highlight, is not merely a tool of communication but a repository of collective memory. By prioritising Kashmiri in its broadcasts, Radio Sharda performs a crucial function: it ensures that the language remains alive, relevant, and accessible to future generations.

Ramesh Hangloo and His Team: An Extraordinary Contribution

The book foregrounds the extraordinary efforts of Ramesh Hangloo and his team. Their work on the ground represents a rare and commendable example of community-driven cultural preservation. In an era where displacement often leads to cultural dilution, their initiative stands as a powerful counterpoint.

As per the essays, Hangloo’s vision has been both pragmatic and deeply rooted in cultural consciousness. He recognises that the survival of a community’s identity depends not only on remembering the past but on actively engaging with it in the present. Through Radio Sharda, he has created a platform that enables such engagement, fostering a sense of continuity despite the rupture of exile. Equally significant is the collective effort of his team. Their contributions, spanning programming, content creation, technical management, and outreach, are integral to the success of the initiative. Theirs is a labour of commitment, sustained over years, and marked by a profound sense of purpose. Their efforts remain praiseworthy on all fronts for promoting, preserving, and ensuring the continuity of the language and culture of a community under severe stress following their forced exile from Kashmir.

Themes of Memory, Identity, and Resilience

The book's thematic core centres on memory, identity, and resilience. The essays engage with memory not as a passive recollection but as an active process of reconstruction. In exile, memory becomes a site of resistance, a means of asserting identity in the face of displacement. The contributors also explore the challenges of intergenerational transmission. The younger generation, growing up outside Kashmir, often finds itself distanced from its cultural roots. The book addresses this concern with sensitivity, emphasising the need for deliberate efforts to bridge this gap. In this context, Radio Sharda emerges as a crucial mediator, facilitating the transmission of cultural knowledge across generations.

Resilience, as the title suggests, is the overarching theme. The story of Radio Sharda is, in essence, a story of the resilience of a community that refuses to relinquish its cultural identity despite the adversities it has faced. The essays collectively celebrate this resilience, while also acknowledging the challenges that accompany it. The essays collectively examine the pivotal role of Radio Sharda as a cultural and emotional lifeline for a displaced community grappling with the trauma of exile. Rather than being merely a broadcasting platform, Radio Sharda is portrayed as a unifying force that responds to the aspirations, anxieties, and identity needs of a community under severe stress.

A dominant theme across the essays is the preservation of cultural identity through various programmes like Vangij-Vor, Aaradhana, Safar Zindagi Hund, Meiyan Kasheer, Aash Pagahitch ( a programme for children ), Orzuv /Health Programme and many more programmes. Through programmes in the mother tongue, the radio station sustains linguistic continuity and safeguards traditions that risk fading in displacement. Contributors emphasise how hearing familiar voices, idioms, and music recreates a sense of home, even in exile. The essays also highlight Radio Sharda’s role in psychological healing. For a community marked by loss and dislocation, the station provides comfort, solidarity, and a shared emotional space. It allows individuals to express grief, resilience, and hope, thereby reducing isolation and reinforcing collective belonging.  Radio Sharda, located at Lower Buta Nagar, TRT Migrant Camp, Jammu (181121; Tel: +91 191-2597806), broadcasts on the FM band at 90.4 MHz, covering Jammu city and its surrounding regions. Beyond its terrestrial reach, the station is readily accessible worldwide via online streaming on TuneIn (Radio Sharda 90.4 FM). Over the years, Radio Sharda has cultivated a dedicated listenership among the Kashmiri diaspora, extending its cultural and community presence not only within Jammu but across different parts of the world.

Conclusion

The Waves of Resilience: The Story of Radio Sharda ultimately stands as an important contribution to the documentation of cultural perseverance in exile. By bringing together diverse voices across its essays, it not only chronicles the journey of a community radio initiative but also situates it within the broader context of identity, memory, and displacement. While the volume foregrounds the efforts of Ramesh Hangloo and his colleagues at Radio Sharda, it does so in a manner that underscores the larger significance of collective cultural action. The book demonstrates how sustained, community-driven initiatives can play a vital role in safeguarding linguistic and cultural heritage under conditions of rupture.

Overall, the collection portrays Radio Sharda as far more than a medium of entertainment or information. It emerges as a symbol of resilience and continuity; a community-driven institution that nurtures identity, fosters cohesion, and helps displaced people articulate and sustain their aspirations in the face of enduring adversity. In this sense, the work extends beyond a commemorative account; it serves as a reflective record of resilience, illustrating how media, memory, and community engagement intersect to sustain a living cultural legacy.

(Avtar Mota )

PS

                                                  

“The Waves of Resilience: The Story of Radio Sharda” was formally released by Lt. Governor Shri Manoj Sinha at a widely attended function in Jammu on 28th April, 2026. The event was organised by Ramesh Hangloo, Founder and Director of Radio Sharda, along with his dedicated team. Speaking on the occasion, the Lieutenant Governor lauded the commendable efforts of Radio Sharda in preserving and promoting the language, culture, and heritage of the exiled Kashmiri community. He emphasised the importance of such initiatives in keeping cultural roots alive despite displacement. The book chronicles the inspiring journey of Radio Sharda as a cultural lifeline for the displaced community, showcasing resilience, identity, and the power of community media.

 

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

THANK YOU, RADIO SHARDA,JAMMU

                                            

                                             

                                        

            

                                        

THANK YOU RAMESH HANGLOO JI AND HIS DEDICATED TEAM AT RADIO SHARDA.

( Photos. Kamal Kishen Ganju)

It was a great programme . His Excellency spoke with, grace ,dignity and empathy. His body language matched his words. Thanks Ramesh Hangloo  Ji for organising and executing this Great Event. It was nice to see His Excellency donning the traditional Pheran and Dastaar.The book released by Radio Sharda conveys true  story about the efforts of Ramesh Hangloo Ji and his team towards  preserving, protecting and ensuring continuity of  the language and culture of a community under severe  stress. Thanks Ramesh Hangloo Ji for providing me a platform to present my two books to His Excellency before reading the Vote of Thanks.I concluded the Vote of Thanks with this couplet:

”Sarv-o-saman bhi, mauj-e-naseem-e-sahar bhi hai

Aey gul tere chaman mein koi chasm-e-tar bhi hai?

Duniya sune to qissa-e-gham hai bohot taveel

Haan tum suno to qissa-e-gham mukhtasar bhi hai……."

My English translation is this :-

(There is the graceful cypress, 

Fragrance of  jasmine flowers too , 

And the soft morning breeze too.

O flower,

look around,  

There sits a  person with tearful eyes in your garden as well ?

If the world listens, 

The tale of our sorrow is very long;

But  , yes, should  you listen,

 it becomes brief as well.)

(Avtar Mota )

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.